So my last adventures have been in casinos - this was not by design, mind you. I got a last minute deal to Vegas a couple of weeks ago, had no plans, so there I went. Then the following weekend, Boz Skaggs was playing at a local casino, so I went. It was awesome - both trips. I spa'd in Vegas, won $100 (and I have no idea how to gamble) and discovered that there are topless pools at most resorts there. No, I did not partake. Vegas is a shit storm and I was in the middle of it until about 11 o'clock both nights I was there - met some crazy people, had offers to fly out of town the next day internationally, had offers to do things I didn't know existed on this earth, pretended my hearing was lacking while smiling, and then I went to my room and went to sleep. Pretty much the same thing at the local card-slinging joint. But I got to see Boz, and that was definitely worth it. And I met a potential hunk with whom I have been on a date since then. Apparently, that's not going to work out since I haven't really heard from him since. A text or two - but at my age, you either call me and ask me for another date, or I pretty much figure you're moving on to the next best thing you believe to be out there. Or, I scared him in some way shape or form, which has been known to happen.
So here is the conundrum as we've already covered the casinos: Why are so many people so afraid to express their true feelings and intentions AND/OR why do so many people express feelings and intentions that are not true? This is bubbling in me not just from the casino experiences of late - this is bubbling from the people I meet and the people I know in life and the fact that I've spent more time on my own than usual - which is saying a helluva lot, because I know what mega-alone-time means. And this gives me MUCH too much time to ponder this crazy thing we call life. But I suppose that's been the point of my West Adventure and one of the reasons the Big Guy placed me on this earth.
So this is a Not Knowing What the Hell I'm Doing. I need to make sure I'm doing and expressing what is true to me, and to make sure I'm connected with and choose to bring people into my life that do the same. And that is sometimes a really hard soil to toil.
Thursday, June 27, 2013
Monday, June 10, 2013
Doing What I Know, Doing What I Thought I Knew, Not Knowing What the Hell I Was Doing: Flying Solo with Butterflies
Doing What I Know, Doing What I Thought I Knew, Not Knowing What the Hell I Was Doing: Flying Solo with Butterflies: One of the reasons I chose Arizona as a place to explore for 6 months was the ease of getting in your car or hopping a cheap flight and expe...
Flying Solo with Butterflies
One of the reasons I chose Arizona as a place to explore for 6 months was the ease of getting in your car or hopping a cheap flight and experiencing places I've never been or haven't experienced enough of. I've now been to San Diego - one morning, I put on my running shoes, grabbed my phone and credit card and walked the city for 8 hours. It was amazing. I just got back from a last-minute excursion to the Grand Canyon. Words just cannot describe. Not just the beauty, but of what happened to me while I was there - all the way through my soul and into the middle of my heart.
Traveling by one's self can be liberating and a helluva ton of fun. You do what you want to do when you want to do it - no one is late or bitching or having a breakdown because their hair doesn't look good and/or their ass looks big. Since I've been hunk-less for so long, I barely remember what it's like to travel with a man, but I do remember they don't like shopping so much. And I love to shop. This all being said, I love to travel with other people - as long as they don't get on my last nerve. My daughter and a handful of my friends are the ultimate joy with which to explore - we go with the flow and take it all in while having a freaking blast. And you don't get looked at like you're plagued with a mental illness or a flesh-eating disease when you tell the hostess that there is just one for dinner. And I swear to the Big Guy Above, if I hear "how is it that a woman like you is traveling alone?" one more ass-slapping time, I'm going to poke someone's eyeball out. I really won't do that or I will be dubbed certifiably insane and probably get in some trouble with the law. What I really do is answer: "Because I can."
But for all of the people this weekend who looked at me funny sitting by myself, eating dinner while listening to a guy play a brilliant guitar and singing Willie and Kris or the couples and groups I passed on the hiking trails, I'll make a bet of a trillion dollars, none of them experienced what I did. I was sitting on an outcropping of rocks, reflecting on life and a gorgeous, yellow butterfly started fluttering around me. I wished it to land on me, because somewhere I've heard that is good luck, but she flew away. I continued on my hike and I was literally thinking about how I wished she had chosen me as her landing pad when I saw her (or her twin) fluttering in front of me and I said outloud "Well there you are..." And do you know what? She came to me and landed on my stomach, drank some sweat from my bellybutton and flew away. And I broke down in tears and thanked the universe for allowing me to be a part of such beauty and for keeping me in awe of what this life offers.
This is a Doing What I Thought I Knew - because my life after this has been altered in such an inspiring way.
Traveling by one's self can be liberating and a helluva ton of fun. You do what you want to do when you want to do it - no one is late or bitching or having a breakdown because their hair doesn't look good and/or their ass looks big. Since I've been hunk-less for so long, I barely remember what it's like to travel with a man, but I do remember they don't like shopping so much. And I love to shop. This all being said, I love to travel with other people - as long as they don't get on my last nerve. My daughter and a handful of my friends are the ultimate joy with which to explore - we go with the flow and take it all in while having a freaking blast. And you don't get looked at like you're plagued with a mental illness or a flesh-eating disease when you tell the hostess that there is just one for dinner. And I swear to the Big Guy Above, if I hear "how is it that a woman like you is traveling alone?" one more ass-slapping time, I'm going to poke someone's eyeball out. I really won't do that or I will be dubbed certifiably insane and probably get in some trouble with the law. What I really do is answer: "Because I can."
But for all of the people this weekend who looked at me funny sitting by myself, eating dinner while listening to a guy play a brilliant guitar and singing Willie and Kris or the couples and groups I passed on the hiking trails, I'll make a bet of a trillion dollars, none of them experienced what I did. I was sitting on an outcropping of rocks, reflecting on life and a gorgeous, yellow butterfly started fluttering around me. I wished it to land on me, because somewhere I've heard that is good luck, but she flew away. I continued on my hike and I was literally thinking about how I wished she had chosen me as her landing pad when I saw her (or her twin) fluttering in front of me and I said outloud "Well there you are..." And do you know what? She came to me and landed on my stomach, drank some sweat from my bellybutton and flew away. And I broke down in tears and thanked the universe for allowing me to be a part of such beauty and for keeping me in awe of what this life offers.
This is a Doing What I Thought I Knew - because my life after this has been altered in such an inspiring way.
Thursday, June 6, 2013
Whack-a-Mole vs. The Groundhog
Having cocktails with one of my BFFs the other day, we came upon what
I think is a hilarious interpretation of dating. We are comparing
ourselves to rodents, which doesn't bode well from a complimentary standpoint, but
it's a knee-slapper, nonetheless. Here it goes....
My friend is like the Whack-a-Mole. If you don't know what that is, just think back to the carnival days and that game you played by which you were given a mallet and would try to whack the mole on the head each time it poked out of a hole. Then, it would sink back down and re-emerge from another hole - and you would try and whack it again. This is my friend in the dating world - she sticks her head out of the ground, finds some hunk (or male mole) that she is attracted to and vice versa , they go out on a date (or 4) OR have a flirtatious encounter(s), it doesn't work out for one reason or another (i.e. she gets whacked on the head), and then she goes back under. Then, as nature would have it, she sticks her head back out only to be lightly boinked by the mallet, and, well, you get where I'm going with this. But God love her, she keeps poking that cute head up with those brown eyes and doesn't lose the faith.
I, on the other hand, am like the Groundhog. Every once in a while, I emerge from the down under to check out the scenery, smells and general vibe of the universe. I take a look around, sniff, open my senses to the hunk that may be sniffing around me, and if I don't like it and my Groundhog hairs are standing up all over my body, I get the hell out of dodge and back to my safe haven and don't come up for a while. Thankfully, the world is not relying upon me to end the winter season - I'd probably have a lot of enemies.
I suppose you could liken my quest to find the hunk of my dreams to waiting for the glorious Spring season and making sure everything is going to bloom and there's not a bunch of dog shit around my Groundhog hole that I may step in when I come out. I'm not sure what you'd liken the Whack-a-Mole to - perhaps playing the game until you win whilst not getting too many bumps on your head. Either way, this dating adventure is just that, an adventure. No matter what hole you're coming up from or going back into.
This is a Doing What I Know.
My friend is like the Whack-a-Mole. If you don't know what that is, just think back to the carnival days and that game you played by which you were given a mallet and would try to whack the mole on the head each time it poked out of a hole. Then, it would sink back down and re-emerge from another hole - and you would try and whack it again. This is my friend in the dating world - she sticks her head out of the ground, finds some hunk (or male mole) that she is attracted to and vice versa , they go out on a date (or 4) OR have a flirtatious encounter(s), it doesn't work out for one reason or another (i.e. she gets whacked on the head), and then she goes back under. Then, as nature would have it, she sticks her head back out only to be lightly boinked by the mallet, and, well, you get where I'm going with this. But God love her, she keeps poking that cute head up with those brown eyes and doesn't lose the faith.
I, on the other hand, am like the Groundhog. Every once in a while, I emerge from the down under to check out the scenery, smells and general vibe of the universe. I take a look around, sniff, open my senses to the hunk that may be sniffing around me, and if I don't like it and my Groundhog hairs are standing up all over my body, I get the hell out of dodge and back to my safe haven and don't come up for a while. Thankfully, the world is not relying upon me to end the winter season - I'd probably have a lot of enemies.
I suppose you could liken my quest to find the hunk of my dreams to waiting for the glorious Spring season and making sure everything is going to bloom and there's not a bunch of dog shit around my Groundhog hole that I may step in when I come out. I'm not sure what you'd liken the Whack-a-Mole to - perhaps playing the game until you win whilst not getting too many bumps on your head. Either way, this dating adventure is just that, an adventure. No matter what hole you're coming up from or going back into.
This is a Doing What I Know.
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